


The Wolf's Embroidery

by teprometo



Series: 2012 Summer Pornathon [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Canon Era, First Time, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Scent Kink, Team Gluttony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-30
Updated: 2012-06-30
Packaged: 2017-11-09 09:15:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teprometo/pseuds/teprometo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur comes to understand just how much he's inherited from his mother. As he learns about himself, he becomes aware of Merlin in turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wolf's Embroidery

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [week three](http://summerpornathon.livejournal.com/80312.html) of the 2012 Summer Pornathon for the challenge Non-Human Characters.

Arthur grew up knowing very little about his mother. He’d been told she was beautiful and graceful, of course. Over and over he’d heard of all the things that made her fit to be queen of Camelot. The rest, he uncovered gradually, each new piece of information like a leaf emerging from the spring melt, its autumn descent all but forgotten.

Over time, Arthur learned that his mother had loved embroidery. She’d held hands with the infirm and walked daily with the elderly. Her favourite food was cantaloupe, and she couldn’t abide strawberries.

She was also a werewolf. This detail, Arthur suspected, only he knew.

On the first full moon of his twentieth year, Arthur quickened. It was painful and disorienting, and even years later, he remembered nothing of that first transformation.

While hunting the next day, still incredibly sore from his body’s drastic metamorphosis, Arthur learned he could smell his game, could hear the nuances of their movement.

It was this very acuity of senses that revealed a new, more fascinating prey to Arthur.

When Merlin walked into the room with breakfast his first day back from Ealdor, he carried the scent of desire with him. It hit Arthur so hard he had to dig his fingernails into his palms to keep from wrestling Merlin into the bed and burying his nose behind one of Merlin’s ridiculous ears. He wanted nothing more than to grab handfuls of Merlin’s flesh and simply drown in the scent of him, an urge he’d never felt before, and one from which the wolf would never release him.

Arthur’s growing awareness revealed something incredibly strange: Merlin spent an inordinate amount of time sneaking about Arthur’s chambers at night.

Every few nights, Arthur stirred at the sound of Merlin’s leather soles padding across the floor. Most often, he merely stood watching Arthur as though verifying the rise and fall of his chest. He looked behind the changing screen and the drapes as though expecting to find an intruder lurking in their midst.

All together, it was touching the way Merlin lingered protectively like a watchdog, sometimes falling asleep leaning against the foot of Arthur’s bed as though his small presence might somehow stave off a determined assassin. These nights were Arthur’s favourites, Merlin’s deep breathing keeping him company until dawn, when he would sneak out of the room. Minutes later, he would return with breakfast and a rosy disposition that did not at all give away that he’d spent all night sleeping on the floor.

Arthur quickly learned that Merlin’s top priority was Arthur’s safety. It surpassed the loyalty of a servant towards his master, and even that of knight towards king. Arthur knew that without a moment’s hesitation, Merlin would die to save him, but he still didn’t understand why.

Until one night he caught Merlin asleep at the foot of the bed, one of Arthur’s tunics bunched up in his hand against his nose.

Arthur’s chest swelled with tenderness as he reached down to take the tunic from Merlin, who yanked it back.

As Merlin stirred into consciousness, Arthur watched his face morph from sleepy contentment to abject horror.

“Arthur, I ... must have fallen asleep gathering the laundry.”

“Get up,” Arthur said.

Merlin stood, tunic still clutched in hand, and made for the door. Arthur caught him by the shoulders and hauled him back into the bed.

Merlin’s face was unreadable as Arthur tore his shirt off and shoved him back, plucking off his boots. All of Arthur’s qualms were silenced when Merlin lifted his hips to help Arthur pull off his trousers. There was no question; he wanted this.

“God, fuck!” Merlin cried out as Arthur pressed his face to Merlin’s groin, sucking in his scent.

The dark scent of Merlin made Arthur growl. He and the wolf shared this, this newfound need for Merlin’s skin.

Reaching a hand up to press over Merlin’s chest, Arthur pulled Merlin’s half-hard prick into his mouth.

He soaked up every noise Merlin made, loving the way Merlin enveloped him in a pocket of sensory bliss. He sucked Merlin’s cock until he came with a shout, leaking fluid into Arthur’s mouth that made his tongue go numb. He rubbed his hand over Merlin’s fast-beating heart.

Twining his fingers with Merlin’s, nose pressed against his damp neck, Arthur’s mind conjured an image of his mother linking arms with an elderly peasant on a summer’s afternoon. He was proud to be her son.


End file.
